A/N: Really sorry about the lack of an update these past few months. Mid-semester exams were really hectic this month, and I also had a lot of work to do outside my studies. Followers of my Walking Dead fic were asking me to do an update, so I've had to write up a chapter plan for that fic as well, and therefore it's taken much longer than usual to write this latest update to this story.

I've got some more I'd like to say, but that's best left for after this chapter concludes. Please see the A/N at the end of this chapter for details.

Chapter 18

Memories or Phantoms?

The air around him went deathly cold and hit him with merciless frost as Kael walked forward, step by step, his eyes fixed upon the mask which lay on the stone pedestal. Surely it had to be a dream? There was no way in the world that the mask of Revan himself, who was undeniably executed by the order of the Jedi Council, if Elena's words were correct, could possibly be sitting still within a cave on Dantooine, of all places.

Yes. Surely it was nothing more than a hallucination. After all, he had lost a substantial amount of blood following the encounter with Juhani and Belaya's kath hounds. Mission had fainted after losing an amount of blood that was miniscule in comparison to his. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was indeed just a product of his imagination, the mask was undeniably there.

Strange. For some reason, this object seemed to call out to him. More like yearn for him, even, to take it up in his hands. Only a fool would think that there was any connection at all between Kael and this artefact of the dark side.

He tried to resist the temptation, forcing himself backward with clumsy and imbalanced steps in an effort to refrain from laying hand on the mask which would surely corrupt him with even the slightest touch. But he could do nothing to refrain from moving forward – or, rather, some external force was propelling him forward to seize it. Part of him was so gripped by fear that he squinted his eyes and vehemently shook his head, as if he were a small child trying to wake up from a nightmare.

Left…right…left…right…Kael would have no say in the matter. He would take up the mask, whether he wished to or not. It almost seemed to whisper to him, beckoning him to lay his hands on it. Its voice was like a serpent's – seductively enticing and inviting, but insidious and downright evil. A dim, reverberating echo of what sounded like a battle began to ring about the chamber. Men screaming in pain…blaster shots roaring…vibroblades tearing through armor and flesh…

Trembling and drenched with sweat and muddied water, his hands reached out and descended towards it. From his wrist to his fingertips, his limbs felt utterly numb, and yet forcefully moved onward as if they were full of strength. He began to wheeze in pain, feeling as if every last bit of oxygen left his lungs. As cynical as he was of the Jedi teachings' rejection of even the slightest bit of passion and desire, he was now gripped with fear and wished with every fibre of his being that he had listened to the words of the Masters and Elena. His passion would be his downfall, and there was no escaping it.

His hands and face drew closer to the mask, which's maddening whisper soon turned into a deathly shriek as he clenched his eyelids shut and waited for the darkness to consume him.

Then, silence. His hands merely went through thin air, causing him to lose balance and fall forward onto his knees. The ground was rough and jagged, and eerily, Kael could now smell smoke in an area which was filled only with the smell of water vapour swamping the chamber. He came to his senses, brought his head up and opened his eyes, and was unable to believe what they were telling him.

All around him was the ruins of a burnt-down, devastated planet, and the cave chamber was nowhere in sight. There were no fires around, but the reek of death and smoke was ever present, and threatened to cause Kael's stomach to churn. Directly to his left was the skeletal remains of some poor sentient who had presumably gotten killed in a devastating bombardment. The bottom half of the bones were some distance away from the upper half, indicating that the being was torn to shreds by an explosion which ripped him in two.

A rustle of footsteps on rock came from behind him, and Kael quickly spun around like lightning, his hand flying over the hilt of his lightsaber. A man garbed in black robes and a dark cape stood with his back turned on him, looking down upon some object which lay in his hands. In front of the hooded man were several other Jedi; most notably a very tall, bald-headed man dressed in an orange Jedi robe, as well as a female Jedi with golden-brown hair and blue eyes looking at him with eyes full of worry. Interestingly to Kael, he recognized the face of the balding Master Vrook who stood behind the Jedi, alongside two others who had the appearance and the wise look of Jedi Masters: a man with short cropped blonde hair, and a beautiful woman pale as moonlight with bright silver hair.

Kael's mind immediately began to be swamped with questions. Who were these people? Why were they paying no attention to him, and only upon the man holding the object in his hand? Just what in the name of the Force was going on here?

His curiosity pulling him forward, Kael heaved himself back up onto his feet and cautiously moved towards the Jedi who was the center of the others' attention. The crowd of Jedi almost seemed to pretend as if he wasn't even there; their eyes were only fixed upon the thing which lay in the one Jedi's hands.

Finally, when he came about the right hand side of the Jedi and looked on from a few yards away from him, Kael's feet froze in place. The object was none other than Revan's mask. But how?

Slowly, the Jedi brought the mask towards his own face. Eerily, the dead earth beneath him seemed to shake about with a light tremor, and stones rattled as if a stampede of great beasts was approaching. Then, without even the slightest warning, Kael's head began to be assaulted with a barrage of painful bouts of visions. His vision turned grey, and images of carnage came and went rapidly, accompanied by shrieks of static noise and the screams of innocent victims of war.

The image of the face of a beautiful Mandalorian woman suddenly came to dominate his thoughts. Her armor and body were mangled and riddled with blaster bolts, her mouth slightly ajar and her steel-grey eyes staring lifelessly up at the skies, a teardrop rolling down the side of her face. Her long, black hair floated about as her head was half-immersed in the bank of the lake which stretched on behind her. Her hand was grasped over that of a dead female Cathar child whose body lay over hers. Despite all the stories of Mandalorian brutality that Kael had heard over the years, this woman had actually tried to protect the Catharese child from the attacks of her own people. And for her noble deed, she had paid for it with her life.

The volume of the voices and the pounding pain in Kael's head grew more and more intense until finally, the Jedi placed the mask upon his face and all went quiet. The voices disappeared and the stones beneath the Jedi's feet fell silent and still. A soft breeze of wind blew westward, sending another nauseating fume of death up Kael's nostrils as he stood on wide-eyed, realizing just who he was staring at this whole time.

"Did you not feel it, Masters?" the masked Revan spoke, his voice reverberating slightly and displaying an artificially harsh tone as he stared directly at them. "Did you not see what I have just seen? Did you not feel that it is the will of the Force that compels me to undertake this crusade to rid the galaxy of the Mandalorian barbarians?"

"Your impulses may drive your convictions, but at the end of the day, that's all that they are: impulses," Vrook stubbornly grumbled with a shake of his head. "For all of your training, you still haven't learned to control your emotions, Revan."

The female Jedi Knight argued against him. "How can you lecture Revan like this, Master Vrook? Didn't you see what we all just saw?"

"Stay silent, Meetra," Atris scolded her friend, doing her best to hide the fact that it pained her to do so.

Frustrated by the ever-so unyielding response of Vrook and Atris, the bald Jedi Knight shot back. "How could you possibly sit idly by whilst millions of innocent people continue to be slaughtered, Master? How can we Jedi claim to be the protectors of the galaxy when we can't even summon up the courage to act in such times?"

"You are right, young Alek," an ancient, low voice came from behind Vrook. The Masters made way, and from in between them stepped forward the small figure of Van Tokare. The little Master looked with sorrow in his eyes at the masked Revan and spoke to him. "As much as we on the high Council have called for caution and restraint, the true extent of the Mandalorians' bloodthirsty campaign has been made clear for all to see. We must act now in order to preserve the future, or else all may be lost."

"That is a foolish decision, and you know it well, Master Vandar," the beautiful female Jedi Master of icy features rebuked him. "Just look at these wretches – all fuelled with emotion and zeal. If you let them go, they will undoubtedly be swayed by the dark side."

"And what will happen if we don't let them go, young Atris?" the voice of another female Jedi Master, both refined and brimming with wisdom, came from behind the other Masters. The woman stepped forth, the bottom of her brown robes lightly dragging along the surface of the earth and being dirtied with black ash. The top of her head was covered by the hood of her robe which extended down slightly past her eyes, but her aged and wrinkled exterior could be seen on her cheeks and chin.

"Master Kreia…," Revan murmured from beneath his mask, grateful that his first and foremost teacher had given him her word of approval. Contrastingly, Atris bit her lower lip with her pristine teeth, frustrated by Kreia's support for Revan.

"As we speak here, the Mandalorians pillage and burn countless worlds across the galaxy," Kreia continued. "You talk of wisdom, restraint and experience, but look at what our own experience has shown us during the war with Exar Kun. The longer we waited and waited, the many more billions were killed. Our world shrank further and further until we were left with no choice other than to fight. And in our current conflict, just when will that time arise, I wonder?"

"What do you insist, then, Master Kreia?" the blond male Jedi Master inquired.

Kreia smirked at her colleague. "Always pondering deeply before making a decision. That attitude has always served you well, Master Kavar. But since you ask my opinion," she said, stepping towards Revan, "I shall indeed voice my opinion that Revan should be free to do as he chooses. In fact, we must sanction his crusade against the Mandalorian invaders."

"This is nothing short of madness!" Vrook angrily pointed at her. "We can barely restrain the Knights and Padawans of the Order as it is! If we sanction Jedi participation in this war, we could be digging our own graves!"

Kreia sighed. "So you are so fearful, so timid towards the possibility of a costly victory, that you would rather subject the galaxy to inescapable destruction, would you?"

"…" Vrook stayed silent, as did Atris. The two Masters could only grind their teeth and glare at Kreia with loathing.

"To do nothing is to embrace apathy. To embrace apathy will only cause you to grow weaker and weaker, until at last, when all doors are sealed and the enemy closes in on you, you will have no choice other than to accept your grim fate. Apathy is death, and there is no escaping it."

Revan couldn't help but secretly smirk beneath his mask. As silver and cunning his tongue was when it came to speechcraft, he was truly no match for his old Master.

"Master Kreia is right," Vandar said with a heavy heart and sigh. "We cannot let our vanity get in the way of our duty as sworn defenders of the Republic."

After much thought, Kavar also nodded. "I am of the same opinion, Master Vandar. The time of action has come."

Visibly incensed, Atris spun about to return to the shuttle, and Vrook soon followed. "Bah! Do as you wish," she puffed, her hair fluttering behind her as she paced back. "I shall not mourn you should you return to Coruscant in a body bag. Such a fate would be a fitting end for one who may very well bring about the decline and destruction of the Order itself."

Vandar and Kavar soon followed after their peers, but not before giving Revan and his company one final look that was filled with both their greatest hopes and darkest fears. All at once, Revan looked like a man who carried the weight of the entire galaxy on his shoulders. His back hunched forward and his shoulders drooped, knowing the significance of the responsibility he was bringing upon himself.

"Look at me, Revan," Kreia spoke to him, causing him to raise his head up at attention. "The path before you will be both long and treacherous. But heed my words: the greatest foe you face out there in the heat of battle will not be a great warrior or military leader. It will be yourself."

"Myself?" Revan asked, puzzled. His own curiosity piqued, Kael sought to walk forward so that he could get a closer look at the facial features of the old woman, but stopped when he realized that his feet would not permit him to do so. Something about her seemed so familiar, and yet he couldn't understand why. Her voice, her stance, her words of wisdom…they were inexplicably a part of his own psyche, but still he couldn't even recognize her. It was maddening!

"Indeed," Kreia remarked. "The one thing that will determine your success or failure is whether you will be able to control your emotional impulses, my old Padawan. Once you begin to lead and command your fellows in the heat of battle, you cannot afford to be plagued with emotional attachments. You would do well to let your friends die so that hundreds of other troops may live. The enemy cares not about companionship or compassion – only victory. As should you."

"I understand, Master Kreia," Revan acknowledged with a nod, although a small glint of light beneath his mask indicated that he secretly snuck a glance sideways through his mask towards Meetra and Alek as he did so.

And it did not go unnoticed by the Jedi Master. But still, she was willing to pay him the benefit of the doubt as she turned and started to walk away to join the others. "I have spoken long enough. Now go, and may the Force do with you as it wills."

A cold, dead breeze of wind blew over the soon-to-be Revanchists the moment their old Master left them. Despite bearing witness to the heartbreaking genocide of the Catharese people through his visions, the resolute and determined Revan clenched his fists and walked in the direction of him and his friends' shuttle.

He was momentarily stopped, however, when Meetra laid a gently hand on his arm. It gave him a sense of comfort whenever she did so. She had always been a close friend of his, and always supported him through thick and thin. "Revan…"

He held her hand and walked with her back to the shuttle, while Alek took the lead in front of them. "What is it, Meetra?"

She frowned, slightly tensing her eyebrows to express anxiety. "Maybe we shouldn't rush into this. All of us can sense your overabounding emotions. Master Kreia is right – if you don't control yourself, then you'll—"

Cut off by the soft touch of Revan's fingers upon her lips, Meetra listened to the words of Revan. "I won't fall. I promise you that, Meetra. I care about you all too much for that. You, Alek, and…"

Meetra knew deep down just who it was Revan found it difficult to speak about. After all, it would possibly be months, even years before Revan could be with his loved ones again if he went to war.

"You'll miss them…won't you?" she whispered, gently squeezing his hand.

"Yes," Revan said, trying not to sound emotional. "Hopefully they'll both be alright until I get back to them."

Completely perplexed, Kael stared at Revan as he took in the words of the Jedi-turned-Dark Lord. Just who were these two people Revan was speaking about? He clenched his eyes shut and tilted his head downwards while he thought long and hard, trying with all his mental strength to put together as many pieces of the fragmented and incomplete puzzle as possible. But it was hopeless: despite spending a full month learning about the allure of the dark side and how Revan fell, neither the Masters nor the academy's archives could answer the true question: not how, but why did he fall in the first place?

Corruption due to a thirst for power was one thing, but Revan seemed to be altogether different from any Sith he had ever researched. In Kael's mind, Revan was not a power-hungry conqueror, but rather an idealist. He studied the Sith fleet's movements and actions over the past few months via the academy's archives, and almost immediately took notice of the fact that prior to Malak's ascension to the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith, there was hardly a planet reported to have been devastated like Taris. Furthermore, it was now taking the Sith far longer to conquer and subdue the worlds they did not mercilessly bombard and destroy down to the last building.

No. Revan was different, and decidedly so. Just what kind of Dark Lord of the Sith could ever show the slightest affections or love for another person?

Then, Kael realized that he spent too much time locked in thought as he blinked and brought his head upward, and saw that the figures Revan and company were now far away from him and growing ever so smaller. He started to dash after them, eager to know more about just what had transpired and drove Revan to war. But no matter how hard or fast he ran after them, Kael grew frustrated to see that his efforts were in vain: as if they were only mirages, the figures mysteriously disappeared, and so did Kael's surroundings, ever so slowly. The barren, ash-covered wastelands of Cathar disappeared, until at last Kael was overwhelmed by the sheer darkness.

All of a sudden again, he was gripped by a sheer cold that made him feel as if his blood froze in his very veins. He was still standing, but couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet. He couldn't even feel what should have been the sensation of rocks under his boots, but rather…nothing. Almost like he was standing all alone in the vast darkness of space, suspended in place and unable to know whether he was even dead or alive.

Then, the pain. Kael felt as if the weight of the entire galaxy was crushing down upon his fragile mind. His throbbing hands went up against his forehead, and he silently begged for the maddening voices and tremor to stop. It tore at him, threatening to shatter his mind like a weak block of wood being cracked and crushed by heavy steel. He squeezed his eyes shut and could think about nothing but the pain and agony until unexpectedly, a familiar voice gently whispered into his ears.

"You'll return to me…won't you?"

I know that voice…Always giving me strength when I need it most…Always there to comfort me in my most difficult times…

With newfound strength, Kael slowly opened his eyes to behold a most lovely sight. A warm pair of smooth hands cupped his cheeks, and the mind-numbing noises had ceased altogether. And those eyes…those steel-grey eyes that he now admitted that he simply couldn't live without. They stared right into his, driving him mad with desire.

"Elena?" he asked hoarsely, finding it difficult to believe what his eyes were telling him.

"Promise me that you'll come back," she sighed in a sullen manner and began to slowly pull his face towards hers.

Come back from what? Kael's mind pounded with questions. I just don't understand…

His eyebrows twitched the moment he felt Elena draw him in for a kiss. Surely this was merely a vision hatched from the dark side which shrouded the cave he was in? It must be trying to confuse him; corrupt him with such pleasuring thoughts. Whatever it was, it was trying to ensnare him in passion and lust, to make him vulnerable to succumbing to its ultimate design.

No matter how much he wanted to embrace her, no matter how much he wanted to kiss her, Kael was resigned to accepting the truth.

He had no other choice than to snap out of it, otherwise it would have eventually destroyed him.

Convincing himself that everything around him was merely a mirage, he looked the apparition of Elena dead in the eyes just as it leaned forward to kiss him. And sure enough, it vanished away in a puff of smoke and dust.

And yet, Elena's words still haunted him. Maybe, just like his vision of Revan and the other Jedi on Cathar, it was a vision of the past? But then she had physically touched him; noticed him whereas none of the Jedi even took note of his presence in the previous vision. Why was that?

Gathering his senses and closing his eyes to refocus himself, he rose to his feet and took a deep breath in and out. Opening his eyes again, he saw in the distance, through the darkness, another strange figure standing far away from him. Disappointed that his mind had not fully shirked away the delusions that had plagued him, he started the process again, closing his eyes to concentrate on bringing himself back to reality.

But it wouldn't work. Again and again he repeated the same meditation technique, and every time he did so, the sweat on his brow grew thicker as he saw that the figure drew closer and closer to him, without even giving away the sound of footsteps. Swallowing nervously, Kael grasped his lightsaber in one hand and cautiously approached the figure. It was shrouded in the darkness, but as it approached, Kael could gradually make out what – or rather, who it was.

Dark black boots treading menacingly upon the ground. Black robes complete with a shrouded cape. A black hood covering a head that was concealed behind a cold, metallic mask.

Darth Revan…How could it be? Elena herself said that he was executed…

A cold shiver almost paralyzed Kael as he quickly spun his head to look backwards. To his greatest fear, there was no-one behind him. Revan was looking at him, his dark malice and hatred overwhelming. The Dark Lord continued to walk slowly towards Kael, unclipping his lightsaber from his belt.

Doing his best to control his fear, Kael urged his shaking hand to calm itself as he reached for his own weapon. It hummed and howled a brave and resolute blue, ready to clash with its evil counterpart.

For a moment, Kael thought that he heard a series of chuckles behind Revan's mask. Taunting him. Mocking his abilities. And if Revan's condescending and belittling tone had any substance behind it, Kael knew that he was in for the fight of his life. His very survival would depend on whether or not he would be able to repel the vicious assault of the Dark Lord himself.

At last, Revan activated his crimson lightsaber which hissed mercilessly, calling for Kael's blood to be spilt.

And charged.

A/N: I originally planned to put in several more 'flashback' sections in Kael's journey through the cave, but decided that I'd rather use them separately in different chapters like I did in chapters 6, 11 and 13. I didn't want Kael/Revan to get too much of a deep glimpse into his past just yet all in one go. Revan's pendent that he gave to Elena as an engagement present was also an issue, and I didn't want to bring that up just yet, as it'll only unnecessarily complicate the later conversation with the Masters. I'd much rather make it a completely private issue just between Kael and Elena (and maybe Bastila in a way).

The relationship between Revan, Elena and Bastila will really start to take interesting turns most likely from the next chapter onward. Carth, Audrey and Mission will also become much closer, and I won't forget to deal with Canderous, Juhani or Zaalbar. And T3's well…just T3, haha.

I really have to write an update for my Walking Dead fic fans now, because they're itching for an update. I'll have to work on "Heart of a Padawan" as well, so keep an eye out for that.

Until next time, please leave your reviews. I always love hearing from you guys, and it gives me a lot of energy to write.